Quandi Jackson Truth Disguised

LASC student (and columnist for The Word) Quandi has published a novel! She has graciously allowed us to publish the excerpts below. The novel is called Truth Disguised, and it's available at the locations below. Check it out!www.LuLu.com Zahra's Books and Things, 900 N. La Brea Ave., Inglewood, CAwww.myspace.com/TruthDisguisedwww.Amazon.com

Excerpt to Truth Disguised!

PROLOGUE

Ms. Zodiac, a tall and slender woman with long, sleek, shapely legs, stepped in the room with a pleasant smile. Her legs were so long, it appeared as if she could wrap them around someone's body two maybe three times. Her fair skinned brightened the dark, gloomy room just like her personality. She had an Afro that was short enough to reveal the Rastafarian colors of her dangling shoulder length earrings. The afro-centric woman looked as if she had life all figured out. Her office was organized with books on the shelf and color-coded folders. Even the black purse size planner on her desk was color-coded. The neatness of her desk showed not an item out of place. Her office overall displayed cleanliness to perfection.

"So, first tell me your name. Your whole name." Ms. Zodiac took a deep breath and leaned back in her tall, black, plush leather chair and wrote on a notepad everything Frankie said.

"Ms. King referred me to you. You're her half sister. I thought she would have told you all about me. I guess not, but my name is Francis Keyanna Livingston. My twin's name is Franceska Arianna Livingston. Everybody calls me Frankie and calls her Arianna. My mom calls me by my whole name when she gets upset. I hate when she does that, but that's her way of getting my attention. Anyway, I prefer to be called Frankie. I don't like my whole name. I just don't. Maybe, the Francis part I can deal with, because both my father and I share the name."

"Okay. So, tell me more about yourself Ms. Livingston. Excuse me, Frankie. Do you go to school or do you work? Or both? Are both your parents together or separated?"

"Well, let's see where do we start. Okay. Yes, both my parents are together but were on the verge of a divorce about six years ago. They are cool now. Let's see, I'm a freshman at NSU. Born in Washington D.C. and raised in Virginia. We lived in D.C. until I was about 10 years old. People tend to think I struggle with my identity as a female, but I feel that I'm pretty sane. Really that's all that should matter but . . ." Frankie shrugged her shoulders.

"You seem quite shy and withdrawn. Do you have any friends?" Ms. Zodiac flipped through the pages of her notepad trying to listen and record at the same time. She was careful to note every detail.

"I have friends. It's five of us, and we were all close, especially when we were younger. Now, everyone has girlfriends and do their own thing. We have our own lives, so we rarely keep in contact. They're all away at college. Some stayed locally to attend and the others went away. When we have contact there's no splitting us apart. If any situation ever comes about where we need each other, we'll be there for one another. It's a promise we've always made with each other and we've always stuck to that."

"Tell me about your friends. I assume most are male friends, since you mentioned they all had girlfriends." Ms. Zodiac waited for a response.

"True." Frankie confirmed with a head nod.

"So you have no female friends and all male friends," Ms. Zodiac asked surprisingly?

"Well, I grew up with all of the friends I'm close to, and they are all males. I know some females, but I don't have any whom I consider my true buds. I hung out with my boys. We did everything together and still do when they are around, you know?"

"Ok, so you say everybody has a significant other. Well, how about you?" Frankie searched Ms. Zodiac's eyes looking for a hint as to why she asked all the questions.

"Do you have a girlfriend? Boyfriend?" Ms. Zodiac was careful not to offend Frankie, but figured there were just some questions she needed to ask.

"Me? A boyfriend? Me? A girlfriend?" Frankie waved her hand, imperturbably blowing the question off. "Naw, I don't have a significant other. Not right now, anyway. That's something we could talk about when that time comes along. But as for now, what can you help me with? My friend's mother referred me to you, so I am here. I mean what insight are you going to give me concerning this female identity issue everyone claims I have? Cause really I don't see where I even have a problem. If there is an issue with me, it's nothing that I can't fix myself. Besides, even if I did have a problem, you'll just tell me things about me that I already know. So, what's the point of wasting your time and mine. Plus, I just don't like telling my business to strangers. Technically speaking, you are a stranger."

"Well, you mentioned earlier that people seem to think that you are in a female identity crisis. It's ok to talk about problems in your life, Frankie. First and foremost, what you need to realize is that other people's opinions of you shouldn't matter. One thing for sure you must understand is that people will talk about you when you are doing bad and when you are doing well. It's not such a great idea to keep things bottled inside. Eventually, you'll have a small problem that grows into a bigger problem."

"How so?" Frankie wasn't too thrilled about carrying on the conversation but showed interest in the advice Ms. Zodiac shared.

"It's like a small issue that you don't want to deal with is buried by problem after problem after problem. You'll find yourself making argument over small issues when the real problem is the one you never bothered to solve. So, it's all right to talk to someone about your problems. Just as long as you recognize that there is a problem first. It doesn't matter what others think, because they're not you."

"Maybe that's the problem I haven't solved, allowing other people to give their opinions about me, allowing other people to dictate to me who I should be. This is something I definitely need to sit on. Think a little. As for now, I feel myself getting cranky, haven't eaten all day. I'm working on an empty stomach. When can I drop by to see you again? I think this may work out between us after all." Frankie waited for Ms. Zodiac to respond.

"I'll tell you what, let's make an appointment for Saturday and you can come back ready to communicate. I have been here for 10 years and don't plan on leaving anytime soon."

"Aiight, let me do that."

Frankie gathered her things and headed for the door. This was the first time someone professional had given Frankie the opportunity to think for herself. She always found herself in positions where she wanted to please others. What other people said about her really mattered to a certain extent. Frankie saw herself on the inside as one of the fellas, but externally others saw Frankie as a woman, trying to be something she was not. This bothered Frankie, because she just wanted to be; whatever that may have been.

Excerpt Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

There were times when the neighborhood basketball courts were filled with loud and rambunctious boys and Frankie being the only girl stood out among them all. It must have been eight individual hoops on a large and cemented outdoor court. The whole court was occupied, from the younger to the older boys. Surely, the youngest boy must have been about five years old. It was one hot summer day back in 1990, when the basketball court was the usual-packed. Frankie's friends and a group of other boys, all between the ages of 11 and 13, were waiting for their turn to play a game of 21. That's when a group of players split evenly into two teams to play basketball while competing to see who would reach 21 first. Vividly, that particular day jogged Frankie down memory lane.

She dribbled the ball between her legs and wanted to get fancy, so she started walking while alternating the ball from palm to palm occasionally bouncing it through her legs.

Marshall, her homeboy, reached his hand toward her direction in attempt to steal the ball when she did a quick and fancy crossover move. Frankie ran from half court to the foul line and shot a two pointer. It was no surprise that the ball sunk into the hoop becoming one with the net. Loud roars came from the direction of the group of boys who was standing next to Frankie and her friends. All her friends covered their faces and were yelling, "awwww." Maurice and Timothy, Frankie's other homeboys, slapped each other's hands in unison.

Timothy exclaimed, "That's my dawg!" He was so loud that you'd thought he was cheering for Michael Jordan dunking the winning point at the fourth quarter with five seconds left on the clock. A dude on the sideline taking a sip of water to cool down after the game yelled to Frankie, "you nice lil man, you nice." Frankie liked people to address her using masculine phrases, because inside that's exactly how she felt-like a boy. To her, this feeling was natural; hands down, no questions asked. Every since she can remember she has always done things with an androgynous twist. The boyish walk with a slight pimp placed her on the same level as the young boys she often hung out with. If it were not for her black, thick, and bushy ponytail pulled back into one puffball, one truly could have mistaken her for one of them. Adding on to her boyish qualities was her name, which happened to be a name used for either a boy or a girl. Certainly, one could not spot her with a doll or identify her with anything that defined being a female child. She liked dribbling a basketball, swinging bats, and watching the football speed through midair after spiraling it off of her fingertips. Almost every girl has had a tomboy experience in her lifetime climbing trees, getting dirty, and doing almost everything a boy does. Though, as a young girl, it is traditionally considered a phase that she experiences while growing up. However, this is not the case of Frankie Keyanna Livingston. Once puberty hits, everything starts to change, for most girls, that is; the way she dresses, her smell, her walk, her hairstyles, and her mannerisms. From a girl to a woman, her whole life begins to change. Her womanhood begins.

The day Frankie met puberty was the day her life had changed forever. Her period came when she was 13 years old. Her once flat chest formed into breast that sat in size B cups. Even though she often tried to hide them when she wore big sweatshirts, they were very much evident. Although not very large, her breasts were round and budded with perkiness. Puberty and womanhood did not matter, for she still dressed in oversized baggy jeans, baseball and football jerseys with matching baseball caps, t-shirts, skullcaps, wristbands, headbands, and sneakers; all the things that accentuated her masculine tone. She even cut her hair in an afro-style once she became a freshman in high school, which really added on to her own sense of style.

Frankie's mom, Diane Livingston, worked late that night, and Frankie being home alone searched through a hair magazine. The newest monthly issue of a very popular magazine, Ivory, captured her attention on a guy model posing for a hair product called Black Hair Shines. And his afro-do was shining like a new pair of black leather Stacy Adams. With Frankie sporting that hairstyle, this would add on to the long overdo self-image she aimed hard to maintain. So, she experimented. She stared in the mirror twirling strands of hair around her fingers building the nerve to chop off every inch of hair that struggled to hold on. She got the scissors and started cutting until she reached about two inches away from the scalp. Frankie rubbed Hurray's hair grease in her hands to moisturize and sheen her new hairstyle. All she needed was for Maurice, her partner in crime, to give her a good shape-up around the edges.

Maurice's dad owned a barbershop, since he and his brother were both about nine and ten years old. They always worked at the barbershop with their dad sweeping, replacing old magazines with the latest ones, and wiping down the barber chairs. Their dad even taught them how to cut hair at a young age hoping they'd one day take over the shop.

It seemed like Maurice took forever to get to the house, although between his house and Frankie's was about eight minutes, if that long. It took him what appeared as a long time to get there, because Frankie was impatient. Nervously, she paced back and forth from one room to the next. Diane was coming home soon and time steadily ticked pass. The doorbell rang. Frankie swung open the front door so aggressively until the hinges looked as if it were going to detach and fly across the room.

"Is--s F--Frankie here, Maurice stood in the doorway and said?"

"It's me dawg, why you trying to be funny? You know it's me."

"Damn, Frankie what the hell you do to your head, it looks like someone threw a tub of Crisco in it!"

"Just come in I need your help. Moms will be here soon, and I need you to give me a shape-up around the edges."

"So, what made you cut your hair? I was digging on the ponytail." Maurice was confused about the whole situation. Between the quick adrenaline rush of all the emotions and the laughter he suppressed, he still tried to remain a supportive friend.

"I just wanted something that was more me. Now, can you shape me up and quit with the questions, I told you moms were coming home from work. Soon!"

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